


The City(guard) of Chains

by ShadowsOffense



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Mages, Pre-Relationship, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1512431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke accidentally blunders into violent, possibly crazy, people on a disturbingly regular basis.  This time, she rescues Aveline, because her friends have just as much of a nack for getting themselves into trouble as she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The City(guard) of Chains

It was the magic that caught Hawke’s attention, a sudden flare from the street to her left that had her turning and moving towards it before she had a chance to think. Someone was casting in public. She peered around the street corner cautiously, although the normal dock traffic was in full force and no-one else had picked up on the fact that something was going on. The power continued to tingle under Hawke’s skin and she strolled towards the feeling, doing her best to look like an ordinary refugee and staying as far away from touching the Fade, herself, as she could.

Flame-orange hair and the heavy plate of a guard’s uniform drew her up short. _Aveline._ Of all the people.... Hawke inhaled sharply. Her friend was jerkily following an unassuming, but clearly casting a powerful spell, mage into a warehouse. There were... not a lot of ways that could be innocent. Not unless Aveline had suddenly decided to befriend all apostate mages in Kirkwall who hadn’t, say, saved her life during a Blight and therefore earned the right to have Miss Law and Order, Formerly Married to a Templar, turn a blind eye.

The door closed behind them and the ‘feeling’ of the spell went with it.

_This is very, very not good._ Hawke thought to herself as she stared at the building. _Blood magic, or I’ll eat that ridiculous hat that Mother knitted for me._ A broken window partway down looked big enough to admit her. Which meant it was probably trapped. And Isabela was not there to flick her fingers into whatever deadly, sharp, confusing contraption of metal and have it shudder and go limp with nary a protest, assuming Hawke even saw it to being with.

Front door it was then.

Hawke frowned. The second she started casting, they’d know what she was. Plus, her spells tended towards the not so subtle and there _were_ quite a few people around. If she could just get inside first...

Mustering an angry scowl, Hawke stormed towards the door. “Tethras! You nug-humping merchant scum!” She shouted as she slammed her fist into it. “Open this door _right now_ , or, Maker help me, you will not like what happens!” She channeled as much of her Mother as she could into that last line. Hawke figured even blood mages should automatically obey the mom voice.

Sure enough the door cracked open. “Messere, this is _not-_ ” a voice started to protest.

All I needed, thank you! Hawke shoved her way inside and kicked the door closed, with one last “Tethras!” thrown over her shoulder for good measure.

* * *

Hawke was exhausted. Her hands trembled as she melted the locks on the door to the back room. Her head felt muddled and fuzzy from being inside the seriously powerful wards that closed this building off into its own little bubble of magical space. _If they hadn’t spelled Aveline outside, I’d have never known this place was here!_ Maker, there had been five of them. Of course, the fifth had panicked and inadvertently help her kill his fellows by spending all of his power into a huge ball of lighting that had arched between them all. _If it had hit me first, before I had gotten a barrier up..._ Hawke shuddered, pushing the now unbarred door open. _This one was too clo-OH!_

Aveline had been chained to the support post that dominated this supervisor’s office turned holding cell. Obviously, whoever had chained her had wanted to make sure that she didn’t have the leverage to break free. Her feet were anchored to the floor slightly further than shoulder width apart and Aveline balanced on the balls of her feet, heels off the ground, as her manacled hands were stretched to the full extension of her arms over her head. Objectively, Hawke could see why they had been worried that Aveline could pull apart the solid steel chains if given half a chance. The guard’s armor, including her padded under coat, was piled neatly against the far wall with her sword and shield, leaving Aveline clad in only a pair of thin breeches and a sleeveless undershirt that Hawke recognized from when the former soldier’s only armor had been a studded leather jerkin. As Aveline strained to keep her weight off her wrists, the muscles in her arms and shoulders _-and thighs, Dear Andraste!-_ were impressively... Hawke settled on ‘visible,’ although ‘gorgeous’ and ‘mouthwatering’ better described her personal reaction to the sight. Aveline certainly _looked_ fully capable of not only wrenching apart solid steel, but pulling down the giant post itself and the rest of the building with it.

Aveline’s head jerked towards the door as it opened and she gaped slightly as she caught sight of her rescuer, staring just as much as Hawke was. “Hawke! How did you find me?” she sounded absolutely flabbergasted. 

Hawke attempted to adopt an air of nonchalance, though she could do nothing to stop the way her cheeks flushed. “Oh, you know me,” she shot Aveline a cheeky grin. “I have a sixth sense about when beautiful women are in danger.”

“Very funny Hawke,” Aveline said drily. Hawke had never been shot a withering glare from a helplessly chained up person before; it rather undercut Aveline’s normal intimidation factor, though not by much. There was an intensity in those green eyes, something inherent, that couldn’t be ignored or denied. It cowed many, although, needless to say, it had a slightly different effect on Hawke.

Right at that moment, she couldn’t have been paid enough to walk away from that look. 

Hawke swallowed. She was staring. Again.

Shaking her head slowly, Hawke stepped inside the room and moved over to examine the bindings holding her friend. Her good, dear friend who she had no business objectifying and currently needed her help.

Kneeling (with her view limited to Aveline’s calves, making it easier to shove that whole mess of want, _and feelings, blight take me_ , to the back of her mind) Hawke saw that the chains holding Aveline’s feet had been fused to glassy looking flagstones. Keyless, the cuffs themselves would be absolutely impossible, of course, but Hawke could burn through the links. She’d also need to simultaneously frost the section between Aveline and her flame to keep the metal from carrying the heat. And Aveline would have to wear the chains and manacles out. Hawke glanced up, only partially successful at keeping her eyes from slowly scanning up Aveline’s body, to look at the upper bindings. Reaching the top chains from her own, less vertically blessed, stature would be a challenge on its own.

She sighed. “I’ll need a moment before I can get you out of there.”

Yet another delightful, extremely heroic, adventure in sitting, letting her catch her metaphorical, magical breath. One more instance Varric would need to leave out of his teasing pretend-epic... and Hawke had no doubt the dwarf would hear of this, the very air itself told him its secrets. Besides, she had used his name in her little deception.

“Are you alright?” Aveline asked, peering down at her as Hawke settled on the floor at her feet.

“Fine, just tapped out.” Hawke ran a hand through her hair, trying to flatten the ‘just got struck by lightening’ look without success. “Are you ok?” she asked belatedly.

Aveline grimaced. “Yes. They barely had enough time to get these chains fixed before your entrance drew them away.” The guard looked angry with herself.

Hawke tilted her head up with a rather petulant frown. “What possessed you to go up against a group of blood mages alone? Is this a new Guard policy I’m unaware of? Feeding the blood mages to keep them from terrorizing the town? Perhaps, once a month they also sacrifice someone to a dragon?” she joked somewhat bitingly. _Why didn’t you ask me for help in the first place?_ Hawke wondered, pressing her lips together.

Aveline scowled. _Oops._

Joking, or sarcastic mockery if Hawke wanted to be truthful with herself (she didn’t), was not always the best tone to take with Aveline. Especially about the Guard. 

“Sorry,” Hawke apologized, holding up her hands before Aveline could snap off a quelling response. “It’s just that this place is so heavily warded I’d have never found you if I hadn’t stumbled upon all this. I might not have even known you were missing.” _I was worried, I care, I’m sorry._

Aveline’s gaze softened, the set of her lips and jaw loosing some of their harsh tension. “It was my own fault; I obviously wasn’t expecting this.” Taught chains made a grinding metal on metal sound as Aveline forgot herself and tried to shrug. “Shit!” Aveline’s wrists took the brunt of her weight as she lost her balance, the restraints not giving her any leave to actually move, holding her in place as she got her feet nominally back underneath herself.

“Are you alright?” Hawke scrambled to her own feet, a hand automatically reaching for Aveline’s point of injury, but Hawke ended up on her tiptoes, hand somewhere just above Aveline’s elbow. She hated being short. It was no wonder no-one ever took her seriously. Until she set them on fire, anyway.

Aveline’s skin was soft, but her muscles underneath were hard and a raised, knotted scar ran from the crease of her elbow down and around the back of her arm.

“Hawke?”

Hawke jerked her hand away as she realized she was _stroking Aveline’s arm!_ Her whole face flushed hotly. Hawke dropped her gaze, but the hair that normally fell in a protective screen over her eyes when she did that was still standing straight up. “Um,” she said intelligently.

After a moment heart pounding silence, likely not nearly as long as it felt, Hawke risked looking up to find Aveline looking strangely confused. Hawke balled her hand, but the memory of the feel of Aveline’s skin against her own was stronger than the fact that it was her own palm pressed against her fingertips. “Sorry,” she tried for a casual tone, wanting to reach back out and touch, but roughly suppressing the urge. “You’re rather irresistible like that.” Her smile felt as off-kilter as she did.

“Must you always kid around?” Aveline actually rolled her eyes.

“It’s a bit of a character flaw,” Hawke said, blinking. “But I’m not actually kidding at this moment: you are gorgeous. I may not be someone you want to appreciate that fact, but I do notice, on occasion.” Every occasion, in fact, all the time, but Hawke wasn’t stupid enough to say that part aloud. Unwanted attentions just made both parties involved uncomfortable. Hawke’s smile did feel more natural as she took a tiny step back, giving them each a little space.

But... had Aveline really thought she was joking?

The guard was looking at her through narrowed, displeased, eyes. But if the displeasure was, in fact, suspicion of teasing insincerity....

Impulsively, Hawke grabbed Aveline’s shirt collar and pulled herself up to kiss the warrior’s lips. “Just incase you ever doubted how attractive you are, how beautiful I find you,” Hawke explained hurriedly as she let go. She could have probably done without adding that last part. Or any of it.

Maybe she could blame this on one too many knocks to the head during the mage-battle?

She had been wrong, though, when she thought Aveline had looked dumfounded before. Comparatively, that expression had only been slightly taken aback by a mild surprise. And Aveline was blushing! Actually blushing! At least, Hawke hoped it was a blush and not the build up of red-faced apocalyptic anger that would erupt as soon as Aveline unfroze from her surprise. In that case, the chains might be the only things that would give Hawke a chance to get away. Maybe.

Either way, she didn’t have much to loose at this juncture. “I’d love to show you just how sincere I am,” Hawke stared into Aveline’s eyes, her voice intense, a touch rougher than normal as her mouth dried up nervously. “If you aren’t horribly repulsed by all of this.”

“You can’t be serious.” Aveline sounded as surprised as she looked, but not disgusted, or even displeased.

“May I touch you?” Hawke reached up, letting her (unsteady) hand hover close to touching Aveline’s arm, where she had before, but not too close.

“Hawke, this is hardly the time or the place,” Aveline attempted to sound forbidding, but the tone wasn’t right.

“We aren’t going anywhere for a while anyway,” Hawke licked her lips. “If you don’t want, if there’s nothing, say the word and I’ll never speak of this again.” _This will teach me to leap before I look,_ Hawke thought as her heart climbed into her throat, desperately scrambling away from the pit that had opened up in her stomach. Was she, _had she,_ really just...?

Slowly; very, very slowly, Aveline smiled. “I didn’t say that,” she murmured, her eyes on the floor, her blush creeping down her neck.

But suddenly Hawke’s heart didn’t need to climb anymore, because it could _fly._ She let her fingers come to rest on Aveline’s skin.

“This is still a bad idea,” Aveline protested. Hawke smiled.

“I’m good at those,” she grinned, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly, nearly laughing from the euphoria. _But I’m getting ahead of myself._ “Where did you get this?” she asked, as her fingers started to trace down the raised scar.

“In the army, before the Blight and Ostagar,” Aveline answered with no hesitation, yet something about her expression communicated an uncertainty. Lingering doubt? Reluctance? Confusion? Was she self-conscious? Dare Hawke hope that she was warring with desire? “A young lordling had bought himself an officer’s commission.” The distaste, distain, in Aveline’s voice for her past commander was unambiguous though. “We were sent to clear out a group of bandits who had holed up in the foothills of the Frostbacks and nothing would do for him but a grand charge into the middle of their camp. Didn’t even wait for proper reconnaissance. The bastards turned us into pincushions from the trees and had a nasty toxin on their blades for those of us lucky enough to make it to cover.”

A soft sound escaped Hawke’s throat and she met Aveline’s eyes as her fingers continued to move over the raised flesh. _What does a person say to something like that?_

As it turned out, nothing.

Scar and skin both ended before Hawke could find words, catching her by surprise as her fingers stumbled onto the material, soft in the way old cotton got, of Aveline’s thin shirt. Eyes still locked with Aveline’s, Hawke let her fingers run over the cloth and come to rest over the gentle thud of Aveline’s heart. Her other hand rose to lightly cup Aveline’s jaw without thought. The gesture was unbearably cliché and schmaltzy and seemed to shout all of the things (feelings) Hawke had yet to say, or decide if she even wanted to say them at all. 

She wanted to snatch her hands away. 

“Hawke,” Aveline breathed her name (like a sodding _benediction_ , was she even thinking in clichés now?!) and Hawke closed her eyes to savor the way it sounded (she was).

“Aveline, I-” Hawke swallowed as the words got tangled up in her throat and she shook her head. “Maker, why is this so difficult?” She opened her eyes. “I care about you. This isn’t just physical, and I _do not_ want to stop touching you, but, after we get out of here, I’d also like to take you out to dinner or something.”

Aveline’s answering smile was... it was _shy_. But how a woman who was so clearly aware of her own strength and worth also be so uncertain and vulnerable was a question for another time. And this _was_ still Aveline, because the look faded and her chin rose. “I like you too Hawke,” she told the mage. She sounded like she was issuing a challenge. 

Well, maybe she was.

“So,” Hawke looked wickedly up through her lashes at Aveline and battled her smile down from ‘dopey’ to something closer to ‘sultry’ (forgetting, for the moment, her hair was still stand straight up). “May I touch you?” she asked as if her hands were not already pressed against Aveline, burning with their shared heat.

Aveline’s eyes flicked over Hawke’s shoulder, to the door, and Hawke let out an annoyed huff of air. Spinning, she laid a glyph over the threshold. “There!”

“I thought you said you were trapped out?” The redhead’s eye were narrowed, but.... was that a hint of a smile?

“I was,” Hawke replied cheekily. She crossed her arms nervously, waiting for Aveline to ask to be released. To either slow down, or maybe move somewhere more comfortable.

“Hawke.”

“Aveline.”

“Touch me.” 

Hawke’s eyes widened and she licked her lips.


End file.
